Tonight, as I left work, I could feel the aftermath of what had occurred. It clung to the air. We are normally fairly steady on Sunday nights but tonight people would randomly trickle in and then there would be nothing. Less than 24 hours earlier and just 15 blocks away people had died while out having a good time. Eating out and going to bars didn't really seem to be as commonly wanted. I drove my car down a street of bars that weren't open. That's right, places that make good money on the weekends were closed. Getting through traffic was pretty fucking easy.
Working tonight was rough. Life has been rough. Every time I hear of another tragedy involving gun violence I am transported to another moment. I see that gun pointed at my head. I remember how scared I was. Then I think of what those poor people felt like. From there, I am defeated. PTSD is a crazy thing, really. You can go months without a single thing harming your well-being. Then a car can drive too slowly behind you, or a loud bang makes you jump through your skin, sometimes a person will just walk a certain way and you freeze. All the well-being is gone. The world becomes dangerous, and you are once again transferred to another time and place.
When I got off, I quickly walked down the side alley to get to my car and cursed myself for not having my cat ears in my hand, I suddenly noticed how quiet it was. I couldn't hear a thing except for my feet against the concrete and my own heightened breathing. There were no cars honking and no drunk friends talking loudly to one-another. Once I could see J Street again, I quickly noticed there were no people walking while eating something yummy they'd bought at the desert diner just kitty corner to the alleyway. There were empty parking spots sprinkled down the street. That silence was deafening.
The other day I got asked if I ever get scared living by myself. It was a complicated question to answer for someone who overthinks things. Simply put, yes.
I do get scared living by myself. Some nights not so much. That silly PTSD though, it's a really good buddy. If my neighbors motion light goes off, I perk up. I shut off all sound. I wait. When it's windy, and I am very clearly aware that it is windy, but something thuds a little harder than I like, I am ready for an attack. I am sure someone is going to charge in and rape me or preferably* just murder me
The trauma that comes from violence is so deeply embedded that I don't think it ever really goes away. This is sad, but it is also needed to make change. I hope Sacramento remembers how today felt.
*I've hit my limit on sexual assault, thanks.
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